Life has rhythm, an ever-changing rhythm, but it has a beat of its own. Like in music, where the rhythm can be different for each particular song, the rhythm of life is different for each of us as well. I don’t really think that life changes to meet the movement of the individual, but that the individual, as a unique instrument in the band of life, finds their own rhythm, their own contribution, to add to the beat.
Ever notice how sometimes life moves along smoothly with no hitches, glitches, casualties or concerns? And then at other times every road seems rough, every view obstructed, every week seems like a struggle, every day an exercise in fatigue and futility? Like you’re not playing in time with the band?
Hey, I think that in those times, we’re actually not playing in tune with the drummer. There’s a timeless beat, a universal heartbeat if you will, that sets the time and the tempo for our lives. We move in and out of the groove like amateur musicians at a County Fair talent show, just happy to be on stage, sometimes oblivious to how bad we may actually sound. We might know that something doesn’t feel right, but are, essentially, unaware that we’re not playing on the beat. The results always have a cruel way of letting us know we’ve been a bit off.
And then there are those times when it all comes together for us, when we’re cruising, like in an old Pontiac convertible along Route 66 through the splendor of the Southwest, the wide open spaces and out-of-the -way places to destinations yet unknown. When we’re groovin’ with the radio, tappin’ our toes in time with the band, with one hand on the wheel and one eye on the road. No place I’d rather be.
Got to listen to the drummer, folks.
Got to dance to the beat.
